perils of 2am dogwalking:

I love my neighbours, and my neighbourhood. We live in a street-corner house with entrances on two different streets; there's three flats on our side and the other side has a furniture shop and two flats above it. Everyone appears to be a total darlingface except the two people above us, who we used to worry about a lot until we realised that they were mother and son rather than husband and wife; the former seems a more forgiveable situation for regular tableflipping drama. I digress.

I just got talking to a guy from the other stairwell; he was just waving his probably-girlfriend away for the night when I was taking Precious to the park outside the building four down from ours, and we got chatting when I was on my way back with Grendel a few minutes later. He was shirtless and probably stoned. Anyway he had a squeeing fanboy fit when he realised I was English and started babbling at me about Lord Nelson and taking football seriously.

It was weirdly adorable.